


Insomniacs

by keelywolfe



Category: Avatar: The Last Airbender
Genre: Anal Sex, Angst, Consensual Underage Sex, Hate Sex, Implied/Referenced Incest, M/M, Older Man/Younger Man, Oral Sex, Past Rape/Non-con
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2009-02-03
Updated: 2009-02-03
Packaged: 2021-03-03 21:01:31
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Rape/Non-Con, Underage
Chapters: 8
Words: 18,353
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24721990
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/keelywolfe/pseuds/keelywolfe
Summary: Hakoda is not a trusting man.
Relationships: Hakoda/Zuko (Avatar), Sokka/Zuko (Avatar)
Comments: 28
Kudos: 276





	1. Fathers and Sons

**Author's Note:**

> This is an OLD story, I've been working on moving some of them from other sites. 
> 
> Warnings! This is a dark and angsty storyline! Please keep yourself safe and stay away if that will bother you!
> 
> I originally wrote this for the Avatar kink meme. The prompt was for Hakoda/Zuko, with Zuko having a skewed idea of father/son relationships.

* * *

It was good to be free, Hakoda decided, breathing in the night air and listening to the laughter of his children. Their small group sat around a blazing fire in the open dais of the Air Temple and although it was late, none of them seemed willing to part from the others. The Duke was already nodding, leaning against Teo, but all the others, even Chit Sang, were only bright with laughter and warmth as Sokka told story after story about their adventures.

All but one. One of their party was missing and his absence was worrying to Hakoda. The son of the Fire Lord hadn't joined their impromptu party and though he had his children with him, one on either side, Hakoda couldn't quite relax.

Sokka was in the middle of another story, this one about a Sabertooth moose-lion when Hakoda finally gave into the urge to find the other boy. Only Katara gave him a glance, worried, but even she said nothing, asking for no explanation as he moved out of the shadows of the temple in searching for the missing one.

He was easily found, sitting cross-legged out in the open balcony edging the temple. Firebender, Hakoda knew, and he didn't have the trusting nature of his son, hadn't seen just how much this boy had changed. But he also couldn't just let him sit here alone. Keep your friends close and your enemies closer.

"Are you all right, son?" Hakoda asked. Better to call him son. It was a reminder of how young this boy was, barely older than Sokka. It made it easier to be kind.

"I'm fine," Zuko said quietly. He drew his knees up, staring out at the stars. The airship, anchored not far away, bobbed gently on the night breeze. It was cool enough that goosebumps rose on Hakoda's bare arms. He crossed them over his chest, holding his own warmth in as he sat down next to this strange, silent boy.

"Why don't you come back to the fire where it's warmer?" he suggested. There was something about knowing Zuko was here, alone, that saddened him. He should be at the fire with the other warriors, celebrating their victory. Instead, he was here, fighting his inner battles alone. Barely older than Sokka and he was all alone. At least his children had each other, had found friends.

Zuko made a soft sound, almost a chuff of laughter. "I'm not cold, I'm a firebender. But you should go back. It must be colder for you." Zuko turned his head a little to look at Hakoda, his eyes bright even in the dim light.

"Hm," Hakoda shrugged, noncommittally. "You handled yourself well at the prison," he said, softly. A small bit of encouragement might coax the boy.

"You think so?" So hopeful for such a tiny scrap of praise. It made Hakoda's gut twist, his eyes flicking to the scar that was partly hidden behind dark hair. He knew this boy had been exiled by his own father, he'd heard rumors, stories. And these people called the Water Tribes savages.

Hakoda set one hand on Zuko's shoulder like he might with his own son and when Zuko looked at him questioningly, he held the boy's eyes with his own, leaning in a little to say, "Yes, you should be proud...of your skills." Almost, he'd said any father would be proud of such a son, but he caught himself, knowing it wasn't true.

Zuko's eyes went wide, startled, lips parting and suddenly Hakoda found himself with an lapful of frantic, eager boy, pressing his soft mouth to Hakoda's and slipping his tongue inside. He tasted sweet with tea, warm with firebending.

"Wait, st--!" Hakoda gasped out, tearing his mouth away, his hands tight on Zuko's upper arms as he tried to push the boy away. But Zuko was stronger than he looked, already hooking his legs around Hakoda as he straddled him. And how could he tell the boy now that he'd misunderstood his innocent gesture? He'd meant only to encourage him but Zuko had seen this instead. Had he had so little praise in his life?

He realized, suddenly, exactly what would happen if he pushed the boy away. His shame and humiliation would overwhelm him and he would always be sitting here, outside the fire, alone.

Perhaps just a little, then?

Softly, Hakoda kissed the boy back, letting his tongue glide over Zuko's, gentling him. Hands that had already slipped into his hair, gripping tightly, loosened and Zuko moaned into his mouth, pressing closer. He was hard against Hakoda's belly, rolling his hips against the older man. The feel of it made arousal stir in Hakoda's own loins. It had been so long since he'd been with anyone else, years at sea and at war, and without thinking, he lifted the boy enough to roll him over, covering his slim body with his own.

"Oh!" Zuko whimpered, a thready little moan as their groins rubbed together, hardness against hardness.

"Yes," Hakoda husked out, reaching between them to loosen their trousers. Both of them still wore the threadbare pants from the prison and it was easy to push them aside. His knuckles brushed against Zuko's cock, already sticky-slick and the boy made a frantic little sound, pressing his face into the crook of Hakoda's neck. He curled his hand around that eager heat, stroking slowly as Zuko squirmed and whimpered.

"That's it," Hakoda whispered, "like this." He let go long enough to guide Zuko's hand to his own need, showing the boy how to stroke, how quickly and how tight to grasp. He proved his skills by learning quickly, easily mimicking Hakoda's movements. "Oh, you sweet boy," Hakoda groaned.

They moved together there, in the dark, slick sounds and quiet breaths until Zuko arched up with a soft cry, spatters of warm fluid jetting against Hakoda's hand and his own belly. The boy shuddered, helplessly, his grip loosening until Hakoda covered his hand with his own and urged him on, so close to his own pleasure.

"Yes, yes," Hakoda breathed, close his eyes as he came. The rush of pleasure was fever-hot and bright behind his eyes and he lowered his forehead to rest it against Zuko's until he caught his breath. "You're a good boy," he whispered.

"My father always said I was terrible at everything," Zuko confessed softly, his face turned into the darkness.

A cold chill went through Hakoda's stomach. He couldn't mean...it wasn't possible what this boy was insinuating. Carefully, Hakoda pulled away, wiping the slickness from his fingers onto his trouser leg. Zuko didn't move from the ground, only straightened his own pants until he was decent.

"Come on," Hakoda said, firmly, holding out a hand to him. "Let's go to the fire."

"I'm fine," Zuko repeated his statement from earlier but this time Hakoda refused to relent. This boy had spent enough time in the darkness. After a moment, Zuko took the offered hand, let Hakoda pull him to his feet. Hakoda didn't let go, walking back to the campfire with Zuko's hand in his own, drawing him back into the light.

-finis-


	2. Sins of Your Fathers

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> By the sins they committed they stirred up his jealous anger more than their fathers had done. -- 1 Kings 14:22

* * *

He was never sure, later, what woke him. Some little sound perhaps, something that didn't mesh with the little nighttime noises he was so accustomed to, soft snores and sleepy murmurs, the occasional chitter from Momo as he rolled over, chasing something tasty in his dreams.

Whatever it was, it pulled Sokka from the sweetness of his dreams, had him blinking into the darkness. The coals from the fire barely glowed, casting their little semi-circle of bedrolls into a pall of light. For just a moment, his dream lingered and he could only squint blankly around him, barely aware of what he was looking for and then he blinked away the sticky, clinging dream-shapes and pulled his legs free of his sleep sack, crouching low to the ground.

There was very little that Sokka couldn't sleep through, the occasional dowsing with icy bended water aside, but that didn't mean he wasn't aware and if something out of the ordinary was out there, better he take a moment to check it out.

Moving on careful, silent feet, Sokka skirted around the blanket covered shapes of Katara and Suki, both still deeply asleep. He edged outside their little group, glancing back at the bulky, slumbering silhouettes behind him.

There, one, no, two empty beds. One was understandable, someone always kept watch at night, and two was perhaps explainable if someone had to take care of a basic need. If that was what had woken him, it was easy enough to confirm it and if it wasn't...well, it would probably be a good thing to have someone else awake with him.

The weight of his knife in his hand was a comforting necessity, cool metal warming quickly against his skin as he crept forward on bare feet, tiny pebbles barely registering as they prodded the tender skin unmercifully. Tomorrow, hopefully, he could moan and groan about his little injuries, glare at the others for daring to snore away while he went out searching for a surprise enemy attack.

Tonight, though, he had to make sure it was only an attack on his sleep and not on his person, and Sokka moved quietly through the rooms, finding each empty. Most of the air temple was inaccessible to them, anyway. Teo, Haru and The Duke had gone through it as thoroughly as only the truly bored could do, found which stairwells had crumbled away over the past century and which ones simply couldn't be walked down unless you were an Airbender. It was why they all still slept in the outer courtyard even though it left them a little exposed. It was better that than to accidentally roll over into open air in your sleep.

There. He could hear soft noises, the faint scraping sound of movement that couldn't be disguised on hard stone floors and Sokka palmed his knife, creeping closer until he could crouch behind a stone pillar, peering around it until his eyes adjusted to the darkness and he could see...gods.

On their knees, moving together in some obscene, horrible way that Sokka could barely comprehend was Zuko and...and his dad. His eyes felt too-wide, painfully stretched but they couldn't deny what he was seeing. His father on his knees behind Zuko, their nakedness brutally visible to him as they writhed together, bare skin gleaming with sweat in the cool night air.

He couldn't look away from it. Zuko seemed all the paler against his father's darker skin, the awful contrast of them moving together in this shadowy little corner of the world. Their naked bodies twisting together were monstrous to his eyes but he felt frozen, trapped in his crouch behind the pillar.

There were soft words spoken, carrying clearly in the still night air along with gasps, the slick sounds their bodies made as they moved together.

"I'm not your father," Hakoda said low, his voice thick in a way Sokka had never heard.

"I know," Zuko whispered. His voice was barely audible, his face hidden in his own arms and as Sokka watched, grim nausea churning low in his guts, his father threaded one hand through Zuko's hair and yanked his head up roughly, burying his face in the sweaty, ropey muscles of Zuko's shoulder to suck rosy color into the skin.

"Say my name," his father whispered, low and terrible.

"Hakoda." It was barely a breath, a low gasp punctuated by his body rocking forward with a hard thrust.

"Again."

"Hakoda!" This time it was a cry and Sokka could see movement in the shadowy nest between Zuko's thighs, his father's hand working furiously on hot flesh and Sokka would have given a great deal not to see what happened next, the wet spill of pale fluid over his father's fist, pattering lightly to the stone floor beneath them.

He managed to tear his gaze away before his father finished, barely noticing the burn in his thighs from being crouched so long as he stumbled a little to his feet, staggering away perhaps louder than he should have but there was no cry of alarm behind him, only the blurred sound of groans, cries that shouldn't have existed even in this dark place.

If he'd had the awareness, Sokka might have been proud at his own discretion, his silence as he hurried desperately to the other side of the pavilion, his stomach finally heaving and he crouched again, low to the ground as he vomited a thin line of bile, spitting desperately before wiping his mouth with the back of his hand. He gagged once, twice, managing to still the queasy churning in his guts as he kept his thoughts carefully blank, refusing to consider what he'd seen.

With slow, careful movements Sokka made his way back to his bedroll, wrapping the blankets around him in a cocoon. He stared into the darkness, his eyes too-wide and dry and even when he heard soft footsteps creeping closer, two other figures sliding into their own blankets, he didn't sleep. He blinked, slow and measured, watching the sun pinken the edges of the dark, the lightening blue of the sky matching his own eyes.

Zuko's bedroll was across from his own and in the rising sun, Sokka could see his face, surrounded by a cloud of blankets; the scar etched deep into his skin alongside the smooth, softer lines of the other side. Like a coin, he decided dimly, two-sided. Two-faced, all along, and the faint, lingering nausea in his stomach turned into a slow burn, fire lighting within him. By the time the sun crossed Zuko's sleeping face, his golden eyes flickering open, Sokka had turned away, rolling up his bedclothes and stowing them away for the coming day.

Zuko yawned, bowing sleepily in the direction of the rising sun before crawling out of his blankets to relight the fire with a simple wave of his hand. There would be tea soon and breakfast cooking, and later there would be firebending lessons. He never noticed blue eyes watching him from an unnaturally silent Sokka, never saw the low anger burning deep within them as they watched him just barely brush a hand against Hakoda's shoulder, his eyes briefly meeting the older man's with a faint smile before he went to tidy his own bedroll. He didn't notice any of it.

But he would.

-finis-


	3. Hunted

Master Piandao had been a good teacher to Sokka, giving him not only training but also much needed confidence in the skills he'd already had. His teachings had been bold, facing his opponents head on and that suited Sokka just fine.

But that didn't mean he didn't know how to hunt. His stealth training had been in done in the arctic cold, a spear gripped in a gloved hand as he moved silently across ice and snow after his prey. It was easy enough to modify a learned skill, studying his prey for a few days as he relearned how to step across loose gravel silently, to shift with the wind to keep himself hidden, to hunt. Some things were never truly forgotten.

Crouching behind a large section of collapsed wall, Sokka watched, waiting for his time. His grip on his knife was sweaty, too slippery and he paused long enough to wipe his hand on his trouser leg. No room for mistakes here, he knew, there was one chance and one chance only.

There. He was moving into this section of the Air Temple alone as he always did just before the sunset, to go through certain forms, moving and shifting in ways that Aang had yet to master. He turned towards the lowering crest of the sun exactly as Sokka had known he would, exactly as he had done the past days that Sokka had watched him, only this day Sokka tightened his grip on his knife and moved on silent feet towards him.

Almost, Zuko noticed him in time, started to turn towards him but by that moment Sokka's body was already carrying them to the hard stone floor, Zuko's breath knocked loose by their combined weight. Already he was starting to struggle and Sokka had known since he was a child that some prey was dangerous, there could be no hesitation, no waiting and the second Zuko felt cold steel against his throat he went very still, his hands pressed flat against the floor from his attempt to rise.

"Don't move," Sokka hissed close to his ear, his cheek almost pressed against Zuko's hair. He kept the knife tight against Zuko's skin, close enough that he could feel the other boy's heat, his pulse rabbiting against Sokka's knuckles.

"Sokka?" Zuko said, equally soft and so bewildered, sweet apple innocence that was such a lie that Sokka bit the inside of his lip, tasted faint copper. Almost, Zuko tried to turn his head, went still again as the knife bit lightly into his skin.

"I'm only asking you once," Sokka said slowly, clearly. No mistakes here, no misunderstandings. "What the fuck are you doing to my father?"

"I don't know what you're talking about," said Zuko, astonishment in his voice but something else, something like hurt, and Sokka ignored it, so tired of Fire Nation lies. He'd trusted him, believed in him, defended him, and at the first opportunity, he'd done this.

Soft, bitter laughter. "Oh, please, play stupid. Give me an excuse." He felt liquid warmth slide over his fingers, and Zuko's breath hissed softly. "I saw you," Sokka breathed. "I know."

He felt the realization in the stiffening body beneath him, his knees tight on either side of Zuko's waist but he didn't fool himself into believing it was anything but the knife keeping him still. Body warmed metal held tight against that throbbing, vital artery, viciously sharp. Sokka had done that himself, scraping it against his whetstone until the edge was fine, nicking his testing thumb with barely any pressure at all.

"If you saw us, you already know what's going on," Zuko said. His voice was low, his breath stirring the dust beneath them.

"Bullshit! I want to know what you did to make him fuck you."

Their bodies were close enough that Sokka could feel Zuko take a sharp breath, the ripple of it moving through them both. "Are you crazy? I'm a firebender, not a witch! I didn't do anything to him."

"Liar!" Sokka breathed, close enough to feel the brush of Zuko's skin against his lips. "My dad would never do...do that unless you were making him."

The only sound for long moments was their breathing, Sokka's too-fast blurts measured against the slower beat of Zuko's, bodies trembling together in the honey-gold light of the setting sun. Bitter sweat was trailing down Sokka's forehead, stinging his eyes and he ducked his head a little without thinking, rubbing it away on the shoulder of Zuko's tunic. The other boy stayed perfectly still, unmoving as he was caught between the blade and Sokka's body.

Abruptly, Zuko tipped his head back and pressed against the knife and another faint surge of wet warmth flowed over Sokka's fingers, slickening them. "If you really think I would hurt him, or you, like that then go ahead and do it."

It made him freeze, that lingering ache in his chest and belly rising until his insides felt singed, as if Zuko could set him on fire from within. The floor was hard beneath his knees, the body between his legs hot with firebending, still with...fear? No, Zuko wasn't afraid of him, somehow Sokka knew that, he knew it, and the rage inside him burbled like running water.

"Sokka," Zuko's voice was softer yet and he could have shouted at any time, the others weren't so far away and they could run in here, see them together with Zuko's blood running warm over Sokka's knuckles...his dad could see them like this. "Sokka, I know you. I know you. You do not want to do this."

And in that split second, he faltered, the knife slipping down and suddenly strong fingers were around his wrist, the thumb pushing viciously into vulnerable tendons until Sokka cried out and the knife slipped from his nerveless fingers.

Son of a bitch, he didn't have time to say, skittering backwards in an awkward little crab crawl and he watched with angry, wet eyes as Zuko picked up the knife, waiting to feel the bite of it against his own skin. Dangerous prey, he'd known how dangerous, didn’t even need a knife to kill.

It didn't happen. Zuko only moved to sit across from him, holding the knife in a limp grip as he took a deep, shaky breath, resting his head in his other hand. He was trembling, Sokka realized, the knife quivering loosely in his hand and whether it was adrenaline or relief, Sokka couldn't say.

"Look...it's not what you think. We're just—" Zuko shrugged a little, cheeks faintly pink. He turned a little to look at the sun, the last fingernail edge of it creeping below the horizon and his voice was soft, almost distant as he whispered, "You have no idea what this has been like for me. I just...needed someone."

"Then need someone else," Almost his voice was plaintive, pleading, but for the sharp edge to it.

"Who do you want me to need, Sokka?" Softly mocking, that faint sardonic sneer and this Zuko he knew, this was the first Zuko he'd known, the Fire Nation prince who'd threatened women and children for his own gain.

Sokka crawled forward, pushing into Zuko's space to glare at him, ignoring the knife that jerked in Zuko's tightening grip. "Anyone else. Just stay away from my dad! He doesn't need you!"

"What gives you the right to decide what he needs? He's your father, you aren't his." Zuko said, leaning away from Sokka looming in front of him. He started to climb to his feet, tossing the knife aside. It fell with a clatter, Sokka glaring at it through too-hot eyes as if it had betrayed him.

"I could tell Katara," Sokka said, so softly, barely aware that he was going to say it before it slipped free. Zuko went still, half-standing, and he sank back down to his knees.

"That would work," Zuko agreed, coolly. His eyes were bright even in the growing dimness as though his firebending gave him some inner light. Or perhaps it was his anger, Sokka could see the embers of it, quiet fury that was barely tamped away. "She'd hate me and probably your father, too. I imagine she'd get Aang to throw me out of the group, maybe convince him he had enough of a start at firebending to get along and he'd agree and not listen to a word that anyone else said. And they'd be wrong. You know it. Would you risk the fate of the whole world for your revenge, Sokka?"

Words were choking him, none of them right.

"Do you want me to try to get Haru to bed down with me? Teo? Chit Sang?" his voice was brutal as a lash. "There is no one else, Sokka. Just let it be."

It wasn't a conscious choice to do it, to lunge in and press his mouth against Zuko's. He wasn't sure even what he wanted but he knew that he just wanted those words to stop, for Zuko to just shut up

And for one blissful second it worked, the mouth beneath his went briefly still, parting hesitantly for Sokka's probing tongue. Zuko tasted like tea and ashes, his mouth wet and too-hot for the briefest of moments before he yanked himself free, one hand rising to press against his lips as he stared at Sokka.

"Need me, then," Sokka said hoarsely, already reaching out to him. Anything to set his father free from this.

But Zuko wasn't cooperating, shuffling backwards away from him in the most graceless move he'd even seen the firebender make. "No," he said, shaking his head, his hands held out to keep Sokka away. "I'm not doing this. I've made a lot of mistakes in my life; I am not making this one. "

He could taste his own anger, thick and bitter at the back of his throat. "You said you needed someone, it doesn't have to be my dad!"

"That is no business of yours, Sokka!" Zuko said in that maddeningly steady voice. "Your father is a grown man, he can make his own choices."

"He's not choosing you!"

But Zuko only shook his head, turning away and in another moment he'd be walking back to the fire, back to the others, back to Hakoda and this moment would be lost.

"Do you really like to have him fucking you that much?" Sokka said, and the scorn was so easy, the mocking laughter that came with it was high and too-sweet between them. Zuko went very still, his shoulders suddenly tense. "What's the matter, you don't have the nerve to fuck anyone yourself? Prince of the Fire Nation, whatever. You looked like you were pretty eager to get on your knees for the Water Tribe."

Zuko swung back towards him, his eyes blazing in his pale face, hands clenched so tightly that Sokka could almost feel the banked heat in them, the flames that ached to reach out.

"Shut up," Zuko whispered, almost inaudible.

"Oh, yes, do me, Water Tribe," Sokka mocked in a high pitched voice. He sprawled back on his elbows and spread his legs, writhing against an imaginary lover. "Fuck me, Hakoda, do me hard!"

Found himself slammed hard against the ground, blood on his tongue from his bitten lip, and Zuko was over him, eyes blazing.

"Shut up."

But that was what he wanted, Zuko's body against him and he grabbed his shoulders, hooked his ankles behind Zuko's knees, holding him there. "Prove it isn't true, then. Fuck me."

"No," Zuko said, his eyes clenched tight but it was a lie, his body betraying him and Sokka could feel how hard he was, the unyielding pressure of his erection next to Sokka's own.

Sokka had never done this before, knew nothing but the feel of stolen kisses and faint touches but his body knew what to do, rocking his hips smoothly upward, once, again, until Zuko made a soft choking sound and pushed back, awkward movements there in the dark as they rubbed together. Clothing between them was an irritation to be borne because Sokka was afraid to let go, his hands clenched painfully tight into the rough silk of Zuko's tunic. Afraid that if he let up the tiniest bit then Zuko would pull away and whatever bargain they were making between them would be broken.

Damp breath against his neck, Zuko panting like he was going to die, tiny noises escaping him to tingle in Sokka's ear, low and base, little grunts that spoke of need and pleasure. Barely, Sokka managed to free one hand, fingers aching as they loosened and all he did was reach up and thread them through the sweaty mass of Zuko's hair. It was nothing like Suki's, wiry and heavy, and it made him want to pull, yanking Zuko's head back until he could mouth at the damp skin of his throat, taste the thin line of metallic blood from the cut there.

"Ah!" Zuko whimpered aloud, hissing at the pressure of Sokka's teeth against his skin and he thrust hard against Sokka, the rough weave of his pants chafing painfully against his hardness as their hips moved together, finding a stuttering rhythm. Sokka buried his own cries into the salt-sweet flesh of Zuko's collarbone, riding each hard thrust of Zuko against him and the sudden pressure of a knee between his thighs, pressing against him, was so abruptly perfect that Sokka had to bite his lip against a whine. He jerked hard as heat swarmed him, his vision dimming and helpless shudders wrenched through him as felt the wet heat of his own orgasm dampen his belly and his trousers.

Above him, Zuko was shaking through his own pleasure, choking back sounds as his body thrummed like he was channeling lightening. Long moments passed before he slumped against Sokka, both of them sticky with sweat and come.

Sokka pressed his lips softly against Zuko's temple, sliding his mouth down to his ear to whisper, "So you'll stay away from him?"

He felt Zuko go tense, trying to pull away and this time Sokka let him, allowed him to climb to his feet.

"And if I don’t? What are you going to do, Sokka?" Zuko asked, almost wearily as he straightened his clothes. "How are you going to stop me? Are you going to go tell him you just let me rub off against you? He'd stop things with me, I'm sure."

But that it might also ruin things between Sokka and his dad was unspoken.

It hadn't worked, dawning realization came to him. It hadn't worked, Zuko hadn't promised him anything and now he had a piece of blackmail to hold against Sokka, and he was going to go back to his father, maybe even tonight they would be naked together and Zuko would make those little noises into his father's ear, begging him for more.

Redness dropped over his eyes like a curtain and he lunged at the other boy without thinking, knocking them both to the ground with a snarl that was nearly a scream. Just wanted to kill him, lashing out wildly with fists and feet, and the red haze behind his eyes didn't fade until he heard his dad shout, a hard hand on his collar yanking him away.

"What is going on?" his father said sharply and Sokka's vision cleared enough to see that Zuko was caught in much the same way, his father's large hands holding them firmly apart. Zuko had a split lip and was probably going to have a black eye, too, the tissues already swelling until his good eye was almost as squinted as the other and Sokka knew he hadn't fared much better, various bruises and scrapes making themselves painfully known.

Out of the corner of his eye, he could see the others staring at them, Katara holding a bubble of water between her hands as she glared at Zuko suspiciously and almost Sokka was tempted to tell them that Zuko had attacked him, to see her react. Before he could say anything though, Zuko spoke.

"We were sparring," Zuko offered, calmly, pulling out of his dad's grasp and dusting off his clothes. "Sorry, we didn't mean to surprise you guys, we got kind of carried away." He gave them all a sheepish smile that Sokka could only gape at, such a perfect lie.

"Sokka?"

"Yeah, Zuko was just teaching me a few moves," Sokka managed to give him a bright grin of his own, wiping away the trickle of blood from his nose with the back of his hand and gave a brief thanks to whatever spirits assisted teenage boys that apparently Toph was already snoring away because certainly she wouldn't have let those lies slide. "I think they work a little too well!"

His laugh sounded too-shrill and forced to his own ears but Zuko's dry, "You just learn too fast," seemed to ease it, the others relaxing but Sokka didn't look away from Zuko, at the odd way he kept his head lowered and it took him a moment to realize that he was hiding the cuts, the bite marks, on his neck, the obvious untruths in their fabrication.

Slowly, Hakoda released his grip on Sokka, his hand moving to clasp his son's shoulder. "I think it's a little late for sparring, anyway. Why don't you both come back to the fire?"

They both murmured agreement, Sokka straightening his own clothes and in another moment they were alone again, silence hanging between them as they started after the others. And perhaps he heard something, a scrape of a boot against gravel or perhaps Sokka just knew the ways of parents far too well because he knew somehow that his father would look back, that he was suspicious enough and concerned enough about leaving them alone. Just out of the corner of his eye, saw a flash of movement and he made a decision.

Grabbed the front of Zuko's tunic and pulled him in, covered his shocked mouth with his own. He struggled briefly, surprised, but Sokka softened it, made it as tender as he could and felt Zuko melt into it, lips parting. This time he tasted like blood, hot and metallic, like holding a coin on his tongue, and the soft moan that escaped from his throat denied nothing.

Slowly, Sokka pulled away and Zuko stared at him, lips reddened and battered eyes wide. Sokka leaned in a little to whisper, so soft, "There. Try to explain that to him, if you can."

Zuko jerked, looked wildly behind them to see Hakoda walking away.

"You—" Zuko started, then his lips pressed together in a thin line. "I suppose I could ask why you hate me so much, but I don't think I want to hear the answer."

"Stay away from him," Sokka grated out, ignoring the rest because it didn't matter, it didn't matter so long as Zuko left his dad alone.

Zuko only looked at him a moment longer, his eyes flickering closed before he turned away, walking slowly back to the fire.

Sokka lingered a few moments longer, retrieving his knife. The edge was stained crimson that flaked away at Sokka's touch. He cleaned it carefully, sliding it back into its sheath and when he left the darkness, stepped back into the firelight, he could see his father sitting on the opposite side of the fire as Zuko, both of them staring silently at the dancing flames.

Good, that was perfect, Sokka told himself fiercely, swallowing away that almost nausea, not thinking about what he'd done or the itchy stickiness that was still low in his own trousers. He was a hunter and this was just the prey he'd been seeking.

His smile felt forced as he accepted a cup of tea from Katara, sipping its warmth slowly and willing it ease the coldness in his guts. Everything was going to be fine now.

He was sure of it.

* * *

tbc


	4. Caught By a Thread

* * *

He heard it, only just barely over the snores and sleepy noises of the others. Soft movement, steps moving around him and Hakoda automatically slit his eyes open, kept his breathing even until he saw who it was.

A familiar form, walking silently towards one of the nearby rooms. He didn't look back, didn't wait, but Hakoda felt the weight of his invitation nonetheless and after a moment, he took it, moving quietly although he doubted very much anything would wake the others. If they could sleep through Chit Sang's snoring, then footsteps weren't likely to be a problem.

"I didn't think you'd come," Zuko said, quietly. He was sitting against the wall, his arms wrapped around his drawn up knees, chin resting atop them. It made him look smaller, younger, and that guilt, the heavy knowledge that he had done this boy no favor by continuing their ill-timed affair rose up again thickly in his throat.

It hadn't been a choice, not a conscious one, but he could hardly call it an accident. A man didn't stumble across a boy, unsleeping in the darkest part of the night, and end up pushing him to the ground, baring that pale, silken skin to his own hands and mouth, by accident. A mistake, to be sure, a disaster, but no accident. He'd simply wanted Zuko and his interest had been returned, had been obvious in those oddly-colored eyes that had watched him since that night they'd first touched.

A mistake but the blame was his. Zuko was young and confused, and his family...his father. No, Hakoda could only blame his loneliness, his years at sea, away from home for his errors in judgment, but never this young man.

"Would you rather I simply avoided you?" Hakoda asked him, settling to the ground next to him. Spirits, he was too old for this, any of this. The stone beneath him was hard, the coolness seeping through his thin prison clothes to chill his bones.

Zuko shrugged, turning his head a little away. The crisp moonlight outlined his face, letting Hakoda see only the sharp silhouette of it, the dips and contours of his nose and lips. There was no question he was a handsome young man, the scar he kept half-hidden behind his hair gave him no shame in Hakoda's eyes; a warrior had scars; it was the way of things.

"So...Sokka?" Hakoda prompted, as though idly curious. "Care to explain?"

"I can't." Softly. He was utterly still but for his hands, fingers moving restlessly against each other. Flameless but there was potential in them, always. Somehow, that no longer unnerved Hakoda the way it had before, potential was not a threat and skill was not always a danger.

"Hm," Hakoda mused, considering that tiny statement. He hadn't expected much, not with Sokka's close-mouthed treatment of the subject whenever Hakoda had subtly probed for information. If his son didn't care to explain with anything but shining eyes and a too-bright smile then he could hardly expect more from a young man who barely spoke at all.

What to make of it, he wasn't sure. Running into the pagoda, he'd thought they were under attack, had been shocked to see his son and Zuko grappling on the floor. Their excuse had been thin to say the least and he might have question them further on it, if he hadn't looked back and seen. Them.

His son in another man's arms, the young man who wasn't so much a lover as he was someone Hakoda had exchanged loneliness with, once. Their mouths had moved together with the tender eagerness of the young. His son. Too young, far too young, especially for this one, his heart had squabbled. But his mind knew that Sokka had been without a parent to guide him for the better part of a year and their kiss hadn't spoken of inexperience as much as it had of new lovers learning each other's touches.

He'd left them to it, ignored the pang in his own heart at his small loss. It would be better this way, better to end things that were never meant to be quickly. Whatever they had been arguing about had surely been heated and Hakoda had suspected at first that Zuko had perhaps told Sokka about their one night together. But the way Zuko had leaned into the kiss, his hands eager on Sokka's shoulders told him a different story; that they were still learning each other and boys had strong hearts and emotions, ones that occasionally lashed out.

"I hope you realize I'm not angry with you. I'm glad you found someone your own age to be with, even if it is my own son. However," his voice hardened, "I do not approve of lying, even by omission. You should have spoken to me before you became involved with Sokka."

Zuko flinched so hard that Hakoda felt it, a ripple of motion as he hunching his shoulders in, "I didn't...we weren't..."

Hakoda softened helplessly at the boy's obvious shame, far too much for such a little indiscretion as a kiss and yet, he resisted the urge to touch him because the memory of his taste, of the hot clasp of his body was still far too recent.

"It's all right," he said, gently, frowning when Zuko didn't unbow, only cringed just slightly away from him. This was not going as he'd intended. "Certainly you shouldn't lie to him about us. I'll speak to him about it tomorrow."

"No," Zuko said, his voice a little choked. "I'll handle it."

That, Hakoda was certain, would be a very bad idea. He should speak to his son about it before he misunderstood. Such mentoring relationships were common in the water tribe, although surely much less so in recent years with few young men to mentor. If Zuko had been water tribe, if had been a little less obviously lonely, Hakoda would have had no qualms about being with him for a time, teaching him this path and leading him into adulthood. It might be better for him to remind Sokka of that before it ruined their budding relationship. Only a mentor, nothing more, and hopefully he wouldn't let it interfere.

"I'm sure he'll understand," Hakoda told him, encouragingly, in case that was what had the boy so glum. He'd known their affair had been ill-timed but he couldn't have possibly expected any of this to crop up and Sokka was an easygoing boy. Surely hearing it from his father rather than Zuko would help. "There's nothing to be ashamed of--"

Zuko's head snapped up and he turned to look at Hakoda for the first time. He was taken aback at the anger glittering in those golden eyes, banked fury, "I am not ashamed of anything I've done."

"No?" Hakoda asked, skeptically. That he doubted, and perhaps he should have left it at that but Hakoda was a straightforward man and solved his problems head on. "Zuko, I don't know if you want to hear this, but you should at least once; what your father did to you was wrong."

"My father?" he said, one hand jerking automatically to his face. Obviously confused, bewildered eyes meeting Hakoda's own blue ones, mirrors of his son's. "What does he have to do with--" Zuko sucked in a sharp breath, eyes widening in dawning horror. "You think--my father would never!"

"But..." But he had said, he had spoken of his father...

"I doubt my father has laid a hand on me since I was a small child! Even when he did this," he gestured savagely at his own face, "He didn't touch me! That's why you wanted to be with me? You thought my father had...had hurt me?"

"No, of course not." But there was no strength in the words, shock coloring them weak because he had suspected it, had believed it, and part of him had wanted to erase that terrible memory for Zuko. A memory that it seemed didn't exist.

"My father," Zuko repeated it, tasting the word, and his laughter was obscene, humorless. "You really believed he was fucking me. What, is that a common thing in the water tribe? Something you aren't telling me about Sokka? Or maybe it's Katara?"

For a moment his words were too horrible to comprehend, Zuko passing his broken anger back to Hakoda, filling him to the brim with it, and angry, bitter words rose on his own tongue to be bitten off, unreleased. Something wasn't right here; Zuko was lashing out like a wounded moose lion, desperately hurting before he could be hurt. Everything he'd thought he understood, every answer he'd found was collapsing in on itself like a tiny boat in icy water.

Zuko was climbing to his feet and Hakoda grabbed his upper arms, holding him back, shaking him slightly, "Wait. If your father didn't hurt you, then who did?" Someone had, this boy had the look of a raw wound behind his eyes, a memory that haunted him.

"Even if someone did, it's not really your concern anymore, is it?" he replied, coolly, trying to pull away from Hakoda's tightening grip as he tried to cling to something, to get some answers. Everything was slipping away from him, so much powdery snow in a windstorm.

Perhaps Zuko was not his concern, but there was someone else involved who was very much so. "Then tell me what is happening between you and my son. Explain it to me."

"Ask him," Zuko said through gritted teeth. "He's your son. You aren't my father, remember? Now let me go!"

He did, watching mutely as the boy walked stiffly away, rubbing one arm almost absently as he made his way back to the little circle of sleeping forms. Hakoda didn't follow, only moved into the moonlight to stare at the silvery crescent with unseeing eyes.

A mistake, to be sure, a disaster but no accident. That there were to be consequences should not have surprised him so very much. He was far too old for this, Hakoda decided wearily, sinking down to the stone floor to watch for the return of the sun. There would be no more sleeping for him, not tonight.

* * *

tbc


	5. fait accompli

* * *

If you followed the long path at the northern end of the temple, the one that wound around three times and had forty-three steps, it took you to a large pavilion that was wide and open to the easterly light. Sokka knew that because he went there at least once a day, counting the steps automatically as he followed the winding steps that led him into the remains of the Western Air Temples gardens.

Most of it was horribly overgrown, weeds choking out the plants that the Air Nomads had so carefully tended for generations. Slender rice leaves still poked out here and there in the long, terraced paddies, mingling with the rough weeds and wildflowers, but it was the orchard Sokka was here for. A hundred years hadn't much affected the moon peach trees, except for the cracked rock surrounding them, the sturdy roots pushing their way through. There were still apple trees, heavy with barely ripe fruit and mangoes dangled tantalizingly out of reach, although they fell easily to the assault of a boomerang.

It was an embarrassment of fruity riches and frankly, Sokka was sick of all of it. Fruit for breakfast, lunch, and dinner was not really his idea of a meal made in the heavens. Not unless it was surrounding a large plate of tasty meat, and sadly, the Air Nomads hadn't thought to provide a meat tree for any Water Tribesmen passing through.

Not that he didn't understand Aang's position on eating meat; he actually did, he understood just fine but he didn't get it.

The Air Nomads had had the luxury of orchards bursting with fruit and gardens overflowing with rice and grains. In the South Pole, you either ate meat or you starved to death. They didn't just eat blubbered seal jerky because it was delicious, it was what they had. Polar ice cap and farming were just two things that didn't go hand and hand.

Which wasn't to say that Sokka couldn't appreciate fruit when he found it. He remembered the taste of his first moon peach, the burst of sweet flavor across his tongue and his senses had nearly cried, some part of himself that had never known it was deprived waking up to it and craving more.

So here in the Air Nomad temple he was willing to play the part, cater to karmatically correctness and eat fruit. Though secretly, in his darkest thoughts that he would never, never admit to, would never want to hurt Aang that way, he wondered just how much good their vegetarian karma had done the Air Nomads, what with every one of them being murdered and all.

Today, he wasn't considering much of anything, only gathered the daily allotment of food in silence. It was easier to focus on the blush of fuzzy skinned fruit than it was to think about anything, drowsily gathering fallen apples for Appa as he considered sinking into the softly shaded little corner for a nap. If Katara wasn't expecting him back soon, he might have done it, but it wasn't worth having her seek him out and finding him snoozing. Worse, she might even ask why he was so tired and that was not a question he wanted to answer.

How was he supposed to explain to his little sister that he'd barely slept in three nights, creeping around the temple in the twilight hours, seeing what he'd seen. And last night after...after he and Zuko, he still hadn't slept. He'd stayed awake to keep watch, following after they'd crept away and even when there hadn't been anything to see, Sokka had stayed, straining to hear what Zuko was telling his dad, how he was explaining.

Or really, how he wasn't explaining and Sokka had felt a sick pulse of satisfaction at that because he'd known, really, hadn't he, that Zuko wouldn't be able to explain it away. Even the truth wouldn't have helped him; even if he'd tipped his head up and shown Hakoda the tiny, healing cuts, it was still his word against Sokka's and who was he going to believe, his own son, the kiss seen by his own eyes, or the words of a Fire Nation traitor.

Yeah, how exactly could Zuko have convinced him of anything?

He'd stayed and watched even after he'd been satisfied that Zuko wasn't going to tell. Keeping an eye out in case Zuko tried something else, did whatever he'd done before to get his dad to touch him. But he hadn't even touched Hakoda, in fact, Hakoda had grabbed been the one to grab Zuko, shaken him a little roughly and for a moment, Sokka's heart had been in his throat, fearful that Zuko had told after all. He couldn't hear their low whispers, their faces close together as they spoke and for a moment, Sokka had thought they might kiss anyway, bitter bile rising in the back of his throat and what he would have done then, Sokka didn't know.

But Zuko had pulled away, walking back towards where Sokka was crouched and he'd had to scramble away, hurrying back to his own bedroll and he'd lain there in the darkness, eyes closed and breathing evenly although he couldn't possibly have been heard over Chit Sang's echoing snore. He watched Zuko crawl into his blankets through slitted eyes, the lines of his back quickly hidden under scratchy, rough cloth as he buried himself in his bedclothes.

He'd watched Zuko for a time after that, watched the stiff form relaxing into sleep as he waited for his father to return and he'd fallen asleep waiting, waking to the sun on his face and Katara calling him to breakfast. If his father had seemed a little somber at breakfast, if Zuko had seemed a little quieter than usual, no one else had noticed and that was fine, that was perfect. Things would get back to normal now and Zuko could keep to teaching Aang firebending, keep his hot little hands to himself.

Someday, his dad was going to find someone who would make him happy. Sokka accepted that, his mom had been gone for a long time now, and he'd never expected his dad to stay alone forever. And he would be damned before he was going to let some slutty Fire Nation guy screw that up for his dad.

A scuffing sound startled him, the deliberate scrape of a boot against the rocky ground. He jerked, a ripe apple tumbling to the ground, as he turned towards it and his heartbeat quickened a little to see the unhappy object of his thoughts standing there.

He couldn't even imagine why Zuko would be seeking him out. The guy really didn't know how to stay away from where he wasn't wanted.

"What do you want?" Sokka asked sullenly, just in case Katara had sent him.

Zuko had his arms folded over his chest, still as the windless air as he spoke, "You should know exactly what I want. We had a deal."

"Our deal," Sokka scoffed, a rasp of jeering laughter in his voice. He picked another apple, studied its perfect ruby skin in the midmorning sunlight before he set it in his basket with the others. "I saw what happened last night. My dad dumped you so go fuck yourself for a change."

The silence behind him stretched so long that Sokka turned a little towards the place Zuko had been standing, half-expecting that the other boy had gone. He was still there, unmoving, and when his eyes met Sokka's glance, he said, finally, "Actually, I might go have a long conversation with your sister. It's such a shame she's been left out of your little family drama. Won't she be so happy to know everything, about how I got to fuck both of you? We all know how fond she is of me."

Sokka stared at him in wordless disbelief, stunned at the matter-of-factness in those soft words. "She won't believe you," Sokka hissed, his hands tightening into fists.

"No?" Zuko took a step closer, tilted his head to the side. "You think your father would deny it? Do you think he'd lie to his sweet daughter? Maybe he will," Zuko said, almost thoughtfully, one finger tapping his lips as he considered, "Maybe he'll tell her what a rotten, lying would-be cocksucker I am, maybe she'll kill me like she threatened to do before. Or maybe she'll believe me. I suppose we'll find out." He tossed the last over his shoulder, already starting back towards the winding staircase and Sokka had him by the arm before he could even think about it, fingers buried into the flesh hard enough to bruise. Sokka's mouth was betrayingly dry and he had to work his tongue against the roof of his mouth to dampen it enough to speak.

"You bastard," Sokka managed to whispered, and already he could see her eyes, how betrayed she would look. How she would look at their father and it wasn't even like this was his dad's fault; it had to be that he was just lonely and Zuko had seduced him somehow, slyly offered himself to a man who was just desperate enough to take him up on it. Liar, all firebenders are liars...

"No, my father's a monster but he did marry my mother," Zuko said, eyes glittering hotly with something like hate. "I didn't start this, any of this. But if you want to play games, I play to win." He turned his head away, breath hissing softly between his teeth before he gritted out. "Everything was just fine until you ruined it, but that's all right. You wanted to whore yourself to me to keep me away from your dad, you can do the same to keep me away from your sister."

Something inside Sokka broke with a soggy little snap, made him want to whine at the unfairness of it like a child, and he realized even after what he'd seen, even after his dad, some part of him had still believed in Zuko. "I thought you wanted to be good!"

Zuko smirked, lips curving but eyes untouched by humor. "Are you going to try to tell me it doesn't feel good?" he mocked softly. "You didn't seem to think that last night." His voice dropped, words falling like chips of ice from a mouth that should have been too hot to speak them so. "Don't you dare back out on this now, Sokka, or I swear I'll make you sorry."

This was wrong, this was so wrong, Sokka felt swamped by it, suffocating on his own breath. "You accused me of threatening the world for revenge," Sokka managed, desperate for an escape, his thoughts clawing frantically for any handhold. "How is it more honorable if you do it?"

"I'm not the one trying to back out on his word. Do we have a deal?"

Heat glowed behind his own eyes, that faint sheen of redness sweeping over his vision but he spoke, barely aware of doing it. "Deal."

He flinched when Zuko leaned in suddenly, pressed his mouth against Sokka's and the urge to bite was overwhelming, to sink his teeth into those soft lips until crimson spilled between their mouths. He fought it away, only stood passively while Zuko explored his mouth, slick tongue sweeping lightly over his own before Zuko pulled away, absurdly kissing him on the tip of the nose before he stepped back.

"My dad was only fucking you because he felt sorry for you," Sokka said distantly. It felt like he was standing next to himself, horrible words spilling free but he felt no regret, none at all. "He thought your daddy was crawling between the sheets with you. What's the matter, didn't your father want anything from you?"

Zuko breathed out slowly, a curl of smoke slipping from between his parted lips. "My father is a monster," Zuko said slowly, clearly. "But even he didn't stoop to sleeping with a boy not even half his age. A shame your father can't say the same. I'll see you tonight, Sokka."

He didn't watch Zuko walk away, stood there in the orchard surrounded by the sickly sweet smell of flowers mingled with that of rotting fruit. The basket at his feet was half-full, plump round fruit cuddled together in the roughly woven container. He realized he was still holding an apple, sticky juice dripping from between his fingers and rich, mealy pulp clenched in his fist. Slowly, Sokka managed to open his hand and let the crushed fruit fall to his feet, raised his hand and licked the salty-sweet dampness from his skin.

Then he turned back to the trees and started gathering again, one fruit at a time as he carefully didn't think of anything. Anything at all.

* * *

tbc


	6. When He Was Bad

* * *

The Western Air Temple may have been located the westerly part of the world but the pagodas themselves faced the south, the sunlight always streaming in to waken and warm the inhabitants as it made its way daily across the sky. It was something that Sokka had noticed almost absently, tracking the time with the movements of the sun, the way the shadows fell and lengthened as the day went by.

Never before had it seemed quite so ominous, the longer shading falling slowly into darkness as the sky pinkened and then reddened, the sky streaking into purple as the sun finally dipped below the horizon. Everyone gathered swiftly by the fire as nighttime carried a chill with it.

Sokka sat with his knees drawn up, watching the others settling in for the night. The last meal of the day was still cooking, Katara stirring their small portion of rice and the cloud of steam that rose with it carried a warm, earthy smell. Normally, it would have made his stomach churn with hunger but something else was already stirring there, lingering unpleasantly.

Unwillingly, his eyes were drawn across the fire, to another figure who was kneeling there, carefully pouring tea into their small, battered collection of cups. Zuko didn't so much as glance at him, picking up the tray and offering a serving to each member of their group, kneeling as needed with easy grace.

Teo was already settled into his blankets for the night and Sokka noted with little curiosity the way Haru was fussing over him, making sure he was comfortable. Once he might have been overflowing with interest but right now, the relationships of others held no fascination.

Don't think about it, Sokka told himself fiercely. Don't think about it or he might do something, might get up and walk away or he might lunge across the fire, his fingers itching to wrap about a pale throat, press his thumbs into the softest place at the base until he felt something give and the rattle of a last breath. Don't think, don't think--

"Sokka?" Softly, next to him and he flinched, half-turning automatically towards it and his hands were already rising defensively. Zuko was crouched next to him, the tray resting on one knee while he waited for Sokka to take his cup. For just a moment, their eyes met, deep blue on gold ones that were guileless and questioning, and for that moment, Sokka could pretend nothing had changed. He could remember another night, Zuko's fumbled attempts at telling a joke, his guarded curiosity when Sokka had called him aside to ask him about his...because he needed to rescue his...

"Sokka?" His father's voice from next to him, faint concern in it and Sokka mentally shook himself and took his cup.

"Sorry," he said, cheerily, and he was dimly astonished at how easy the lie felt. "Guess I was daydreaming." Don't think, don't think--

But he couldn't help but stiffen when Zuko brushed against him as he stood, perhaps deliberately, a reminder, and he gripped his cup so tightly that his hand ached. He sat very still as his father took his own cup of tea, his eyes on the glowing flames, and when he finally took a sip of his tea it was stone cold, bitter on his tongue.

Soon there would be food, meatless and bland but still food, and after that, the yawns would begin, bodies tangling themselves into blankets and the fire would die down to embers as breathing deepened and minds were lost into dreams, and all Sokka could do was sit here and wait, trying his damnedest to not think about what was coming.

* * *

Later, when the shadows were at their deepest, Sokka was still awake, his thoughts still carefully blank and it wasn't until one of those shadows moved, separating itself from the others that something battered against the blockade he'd erected in his mind, terror thick and coppery at the back of his throat. There was a temptation to remain still, to pretend sleep and force Zuko to either risk trying to wake him or leave him be. But there was still a threat lingering at the back of his mind, one that he had little reason to doubt, and he believed, completely, that Zuko would make him very sorry if he tried it.

His legs threatened to cramp as he uncurled them and he felt like an old man rising to his feet, wincing at the tiny pops in his joints that sounded a loud as cannon fire to his ears. No one around them stirred, even his father slept on, blissfully unaware and for just a second, resentment was heavy in his chest, that his dad was lost in his own dreams instead of here where Sokka needed him. No one was going to save him, Sokka was coming to accept, barely able to acknowledge that some part of him hadn't quite believed.

Instead, he silently followed the shadow waiting for him, his bare feet icy on the stone floor and his heartbeat pounding in his ears as Zuko walked back to...to that place he'd been with his father, spirits, he couldn't, he couldn't--

But Zuko caught his arm when he hesitated, pulling Sokka along as he murmured, "Not here. I'd rather no one overhear and walk in on this."

At least in that they were in perfect agreement.

Faint moonlight followed them as they walked, dipping in windows and hallways as Zuko led them down dusty paths into one of the far pagodas, closing the door behind him.

They'd discovered when they got here that all of the sleep pallets were useless, rotted away through a hundred years of neglect and pillaging mice. The fingernail edge of the moon was visible through the window, its meager light filling the room to the brim and one corner had been cleared, a blanket spread out and waiting.

It was the blanket that cemented this in Sokka's mind, the sudden reality of preparation, and he could see it, Zuko in this room, methodically discarding the decaying straw tick in favor of the threadbare but clean blanket, readying this room for this, for them, and suddenly it was now.

Ignoring the sudden lurch in his gut, Sokka reached for his belt, jerking unsteadily at the ties. He could do this, he could, if he could just keep from thinking about it.

Hands on his stopped him. "Wait."

Sokka stiffened helplessly as arms slid around him from behind and pulled him in, holding him against the warm length of Zuko's body. For a long time they simply stood there, Sokka so tense he felt like his skin might split and his bones would spill out on the floor as he waited for Zuko to do something, to do what they'd come here for. But he didn't, just stood there with his arms circling Sokka loosely, his chin resting on Sokka's shoulder as he breathed in slow, deep rhythm.

Do something, Sokka couldn't scream, tension almost a vibration within him, and when Zuko finally did, one hand slowly moving, Sokka jerked so hard that both of them staggered. Balance was unthinkable, he couldn't stand anymore on his stiffened legs and when he sank down on the blanket, Zuko followed, arranging himself carefully behind Sokka, one leg on either side of him.

This...this wasn't what he'd been expecting; it wasn't what he'd seen the other night. Not this silent holding and Zuko was so warm, wherever his body touched was a shield against the chilly night and against his will, Sokka began to relax, not quite leaning back into that warmth. Gradually, slim hands shifted, one moving to rest against the back of Sokka's neck, sifting lightly through his loose hair to his scalp.

If it had been anyone else, Sokka might have groaned at the touch, leaned into it, let those fingertips working through his hair rub away his tension. As it was, it was all he could do not to flinch, sour spit in his mouth that he couldn't swallow away. Too gentle, too tender and if there was roughness he might be able to distance himself from it, if there was pain he could close his eyes and let himself feel it. These too-gentle touches, these caresses were not what he'd prepared himself for and to his horror, he felt his body responding to it. Tipping his head unconsciously against those tender fingers, a soft gasp escaping him as Zuko's other hand worked its way into his tunic, skin that should have been chilled instead entirely too hot against his bare chest.

Breath against his ear distracted him, followed by lips, Zuko softly kissing the sensitive skin there as his hand drifted down from Sokka's hair to cup his cheek, deliberately tipping his head into it. He couldn't help but whimper as the soft lobe was sucked into hot wetness, sharp teeth nipping lightly at it. Dimly, he was grateful for the closed door, didn’t want anyone else to hear, to ever see his shame.

Shame, yes, mingling with grief, at what he was slowly coming to realize he was losing here. A friend that might never have existed was turning him, pushing him to lie back on the thin blanket that barely cushioned the hard stone underneath. And he went, followed it unquestioningly and he didn't shy away even the tiniest bit as Zuko loomed over him, on top of him, resting his weight on his elbows.

Zuko's eyes were a bright gleam in the faint light, closing as he leaned in and the kiss wasn't unexpected as much as it was unwelcome, still so very tender and Sokka couldn't help biting this time, trying to force some small amount of roughness into this. If the pain wasn't going to be his, it was going to be somebody's and there was only one other person here.

Zuko only hissed softly, barely a sound, holding very still until Sokka finally let him go. Faint redness seeped into the kiss, salt-copper crimson but still, Zuko was only gentle, rubbing his swollen mouth over Sokka's and letting him feel what he'd done.

"Shhhh," Zuko murmured, the first word between them in this darkened room, this place where they were sharing unspeakable things. "I'm not going to hurt you."

Inwardly, Sokka screamed at the unfairness of it. That was what he wanted, what he needed, and Zuko only pulled aside his tunic with exquisite patience, one hand skimming over his chest, fingertips lingering as they found a nipple, peaked against the chill air. It made Sokka choke, arching up unwillingly and his lips parted for Zuko's inquisitive tongue, tangling with his own and there was heat building between them despite Sokka's desperate efforts against it. Their slick mouths clung, slipping apart for a breath and then back, their breath coming in heavy blurts between them, Sokka's edged with a thin whine. His nipple was hard against Zuko's circling fingertip and he was harder yet lower where their hips met, moving together in an inevitable rhythm.

To his shame, he protested wordlessly when Zuko pulled his mouth away, straining upwards to capture it again only to fall back when Zuko dipped his head instead, replacing his fingers with the wet heat of his mouth as he sucked softly on the pebbled flesh. Almost there was a tiny pain, teeth nibbling softly but it was too brief for Sokka to catch at, Zuko's mouth drifting lower, leaving a damp trail to cool behind it.

His hands were in Zuko's hair, Sokka realized dimly, clenching too tight and he heard the crackle of a few strands breaking, his own hands aching with the pressure but he couldn't let go, couldn't while Zuko pressed his face into his belly, lips tugging playfully at the faint line of hair beneath his belly button. One hand was quickly working the ties of Sokka's leggings open, shoving them down almost perfunctorily and Sokka barely had time to feel relief at being free before the slick heat of a firebender's mouth surrounded him.

A thin, desperate wail escaped him as he tugged viciously at Zuko's hair, no, no, it wasn't supposed to be like this. He was supposed to be used, quickly and dismissively, in revenge or hate, or something, there wasn't supposed to be this tenderness, this honest desire as Zuko's mouth worked him, touching him where he'd only had his own hands before.

It wasn't working out according to Sokka's ill-considered plan and he felt like he was at the edge of a cliff, arms pinwheeling desperately as he tried to find solid footing. There was none, only the hot pressure of a mouth around him as Zuko worked up and down and when he finally loosened his grip on Zuko's hair it had the unexpected effect of driving him deeper, the other boy no longer restrained by Sokka's clinging hands.

Even through the rich haze of pleasure surrounding him, Sokka still felt fingertips slipping between his legs to slide lower, down between the cheeks of his ass. He stiffened against the touch, trying to arch up away from it and for his trouble he slid deeper into the velvety wet heat of Zuko's mouth and the suction increased suddenly to almost painful. Choking on a moan, caught between two things he didn't want to want, Sokka could only blink up at the cracked ceiling, stone visible through fallen chunks of plaster.

An unpleasant chill swept over his wet skin as Zuko pulled off, pressed his face into the crease of Sokka's thigh, his breath almost ticklish as he panted heavily. He tipped his head on enough to look at Sokka before he pressed again, one fingertip circling that clenched place lightly.

"Relax," Zuko whispered, a puff of warm air against Sokka's skin. It had just the opposite effect, he tensed harder, felt it thrumming through him, a vibrating knot of please, please, don't that Zuko ignored. That slick fingertip pressed again, just barely inside and Sokka made a soft, protesting sound, muffled it against his own hand pressed tight over his mouth.

"Relax," he repeated, softer, pressing tender little kisses to sensitive skin, dipping lower, and leaving goose bumps to prickle behind each wet little touch. "Relax," Zuko whispered a third time, damp breath like a caress. "I'm not going to hurt you."

But that's not fair, Sokka couldn't protest, wishing fervently that Zuko was wrong and that the ever deepening pressure of his finger did hurt. His wish went ungranted, moonlight and gods alike ignoring him as that slender, oily digit slid ever deeper, not painful just strange until--

"Ah!" Sokka gasped, his hips lurching back on their own accord, seeking again that bright spark that had flashed inside him.

A soft chuckle gusted against his belly. "There, see? I told you this feels good."

Sokka couldn't spare any attention to resenting that, choked little breaths almost gagging him as Zuko nuzzled against his cock, tonguing at the slit in the tip before taking him in again and at least he wasn't talking now. If Sokka had to feel this than at least he didn't have to listen, drawing his knees up a little for leverage as he thrust up, giving in and just feeling. His ankles were still tangled in his pants, hobbled by frustrating cloth and he didn't care, shoved all his clotted and miserable feelings aside as he clenched his hands again in Zuko's hair, willingly, and rocked into the wet heat.

Hot breath was frantic against his belly, Zuko's nose almost buried against it and he made a startled sound, one finger inside Sokka sliding into two and that almost, almost hurt, not enough, not what he'd been wanting but Sokka had ceased to care about any of it, just wanted, something hungry and needy surging from deep within him, his own eyes clenched tight blinding him as he jerked up once more, twice, and then came into that sweet, too-hot mouth that swallowed almost eagerly around him.

He wasn't quite aware for long minutes after that, dimly feeling Zuko pulling away from him, hands on his ankles ridding him of the last hindrance of his clothes and it wasn't until he felt hands on his thighs pushing them apart that he was able to pry his eyes open again, a thin worm of panic starting to rise in him.

Zuko was hooking an arm under one of his knees, spreading him wide and exposing him in a way he hadn't before, kneeling between his spread legs and he was still mostly dressed, the fabric abrading lightly against the skin of Sokka's inner thighs but what he'd alternately dreaded and anticipated since before they'd even begun was going to happen and it was now.

Hot, blunt pressure against him, prying him open, and Sokka scrabbled for a hold on Zuko's shoulder, panic tightening his grip into the heavy silk of his tunic. Rich clothes, even as plain as they were, Fire Nation, and this would be what he remembered for his first time, Sokka realized, fucked over by Zuko again.

The thought made him laugh, tripping into half a sob as the pressure increased, Zuko leaning into him as his body finally gave and let him start the long, slow glide inside.

"I won't hurt you," Zuko was whispering, scattering little kisses over his face, against his mouth again and again. "Don't want to hurt you, I don't," over and over, so softly, his voice catching on a groan as he slowly pushed inside.

It seemed to take forever, Zuko filling every fraction of Sokka's body the moment it was offered, infinitesimal little movements as Sokka helplessly opened up to him, his tension unraveling in sweet kisses and touches, soft little words of encouragement whispered against him until he almost forgot that he didn't want to be here, almost believed, wished--

"Ahh!" Sokka whimpered, that little pressure point inside him flaring hotly again as Zuko rubbed against it and he felt a smile against his neck as Zuko did it again.

"There, that's it," Zuko crooned, keeping his motions smooth and steady, shallow thrusts that only offered pleasure. "Gods, you feel good, you're so tight, so good." A litany of words chanted into his throat, dissolving slowly into moans as the pace increased and it didn't hurt, only a faint ache of pressure inside but Sokka no longer cared, wriggling desperately in an attempt to make Zuko go faster, one of his hand busy between his legs, stroking his renewed hardness with near franticness. The other was clenched in the fabric at Zuko's shoulder, clutching him, trying to hold on to something and he felt the sudden tension seize him, his thrusts quickening abruptly, and suddenly wet heat was surging into him, filling him in ragged spurts, Zuko throwing his head back, tendons straining in his throat was he groaned and came.

The feel of it was so unexpected, alien and perfect at the same time, and Sokka stroked himself harder, his hand jarring against Zuko's stomach as he struggled for it, jerky little thrusts inside him driving him along until he finally bit his tongue on a cry, the wet heat of his own come splattering between them.

It only took him a moment to recover this time, enough to feel the deeply uncomfortable strain in his thighs as Zuko slumped down on him. Squirming awkwardly didn't seem to send the right message and finally Sokka pushed roughly on Zuko's shoulder, to little avail, snarling out in an embarrassingly reedy little voice, "Move!"

Zuko stirred only enough to raise his head, languid satisfaction in his eyes as he smirked. "Did you like that, Water Tribe?"

Sokka kept silent, turning his head away to look into the deeper darkness of the room. The moon had dipped lower, no longer peeking in at them and right then it was a mercy.

It only left his ear exposed, Zuko leaning down to lick at it with a nasty, wet swipe, "You should've," he whispered, running his tongue over the whorls of soft skin. "That was how your father fucked me."

His eyes flared open, snapping back to the smirking boy still pinning him down, "He did not, I watched, he--"

Zuko's smirk widened, his eyes coldly reflecting it. "You watched. For how long? Did it get you hard, watching him fuck me?"

"Shut up," Sokka whispered, eyes sliding closed again and he started struggling for real, couldn't hear this with Zuko still inside him, the evidence of his orgasm still wet between them.

Instantly, Zuko was holding him down, strong hands stilling him, "Stop, you'll hurt yourself. Hold still." Zuko pulled out of him, slowly, but it still felt like his insides were going to follow. Sokka whimpered, biting his lip and nearly flinched when Zuko kissed him, gently. "Shhh," he whispered into his mouth, "Don't tense up now, it's all right. That's it."

Tender again after his verbal brutality and the tears that sprang into Sokka's eyes only made him angry, biting his lip until he tasted blood as Zuko finally separated from him, still kneeling between Sokka's thighs as he briskly straightened his trousers and climbed to his feet.

Sokka had barely managed to sit up, grimacing at the growing ache inside, the feeling of wetness creeping down his thighs, when Zuko crouched suddenly and kissed him, and here was the roughness he'd wanted before, the crash of teeth and tongue against each other and both of them were panting for breath when Zuko finally wrenched away, turning his back as he stood.

"See you tomorrow," Zuko tossed over his shoulder, nothing like mockery in his voice, only plain matter-of-factness, a statement of truth and Sokka stared after him for a long moments before he slowly started pulling on his own clothes. It felt like every part of him ached, the faint pain deep inside him spreading throughout his body and it was heavier in his chest, horrible and thick.

He left the blanket where it was, uncaring if anyone else might discover it the next day. He doubted it; the pagodas were boring to explore, one empty room after another. It seemed to take much longer to walk back to the main courtyard and when he got there Zuko was already in his blankets, seemingly asleep.

He stood there for what seemed a long time, wobbling a little on shaky legs as he stared at the low rise of a body beneath blankets, and dimly he thought of his knife, still painfully sharp, the heft of it in his hand, of warm wetness sliding over his knuckles. A shiver went through him and Sokka shook himself a little, like stirring out of a dream and instead he went to his own blankets, curled up in them and in his exhaustion sleep was surprisingly easy to find.

He never saw another pair of eyes watching them, indigo and unreadable in the deepening darkness.

* * *

tbc


	7. What Doesn't Kill You

* * *

It might have been better to be hurt, to have a deep ache inside himself to worry at, to feel every time he shifted, every step a reminder of his disillusionment. When he woke the next morning, hovering in that little dream-space of unreality where his thoughts were still gathering from their nightly sabbatical, Sokka sat up automatically, caught between a yawn and a stretch, and he barely felt a twinge to remind him.

Nothing physical remained to root him to his rage; a faint stickiness to his skin that could have been sweat from sleep, a bruise here and there, easily dismissed as from training. So for the first brief moments of awakening, he didn't remember at all, only sniffed the air halfheartedly for a meatless breakfast while he pushed his loose hair out of his eyes.

It was the sound of a yawn that broke through his early morning forgetfulness, automatically glancing in that direction to see Zuko sitting up in his blankets, rubbing his eyes with the back of his hand like a child.

Memory was like a flood of icy water slapping into him, pooling behind his eyes and for a moment, Sokka couldn't move, pinned there by his recollection as surely as he'd been pinned the night before by Zuko's body. A faint shiver went through him before he could still himself, and he realized with dim horror that he was hard. Perfectly ordinary in the morning, teenaged body uncaring about the implications it brought with it, gods, he was remembering what Zuko had done and he was hard, horrifying little thrills of pleasure that went through him every time he shifted and rubbed against his clothes.

He might have sat there the rest of the morning, rigidly afraid to move, his breathing coming faster as panic started rising thick in his throat, if a bowl hadn't been suddenly thrust in front of his face, breaking the circle of his thoughts.

Sokka blinked at it, almost uncomprehending even as his hands raised and took it automatically, looking up into warm blue eyes.

"Not quite awake yet, big guy?" Suki teased, handing him a pair of chopsticks to go with it. She left him to it, went back to gather another bowl as Katara dished it out.

They'd hardly spoken in the past couple days, Suki focusing on her own training and Sokka focusing on...everything and nothing, a million details that he'd alternately tried to change or ignore completely. He'd been avoiding her, he realized dully, because really, what else could he do? Spill everything that had been happening, watch the sweet warmth in her eyes turn to ashes, watch them fill with horror.

He couldn't tell her anything, not without telling everything, not without telling them all, and he was trapped as surely as if he'd been wrapped in a net, struggling only winding it tighter.

Movement by his side and he looked over sharply at Zuko kneeling next to him, his growing dismay splintering its way through the detachment he'd managed to hold on to yesterday.

He was only serving tea the way he always did, his little thrice daily chore that he'd accepted unconditionally. Had offered, in fact, almost sheepishly, because it was something he could do. Sokka suspected Katara had only agreed to it because there was some dark humor in it, wasn't there, to have a prince serving them, even an exiled one, the guy who'd tried to kill them, the guy who'd..who'd...

Zuko was just kneeling there with his tray, met his eyes unflinchingly and there was nothing mocking in them, no humor in those yellow depths. Fox eyes, liar's eyes, and Sokka wondered a little wildly if Zuko would touch him and what he would do if he did, so ready to flinch away he thought his bones might snap

"Are you all right?" Zuko said, finally, barely a murmur under his breath and the sheer absurdity of it almost made Sokka laugh because what could he say? No, I'm not all right, no, I think I might be losing my mind, no, because I agreed to let you fuck me but you weren't supposed to make me like it, you bastard, you weren't supposed to embed yourself into my thoughts, no, because I hate you, I want to see you broken and bleeding but I think I still want--

"I'm fine," Sokka pushed out through his dry throat, snatching a cup from tray and draining it, barely noticing the way it scalded his mouth. He braced for Zuko to say something else, something mocking and sardonic, maybe just a single word, a softly spoken, 'tonight' that would lodge itself into his thoughts, circling with the rest of them like vultures as they waited for his weakness to show itself.

But Zuko didn't say anything else, didn't so much as brush against him as he rose easily back to his feet, balancing his tray with one hand as he offered a cup to each of the others, and Sokka watched him, helplessly, rage beating its leathery wings against his heart but what he remembered were softly spoken words, repeated over and over.

(I don't want to hurt you, not going to hurt you, I'm not)

He set his cup aside with a clatter, spilling lukewarm tea over his hand as he picked up his bowl again and roughly shoveled rice into his mouth. The blandness of it was a mercy to his churning stomach and he gave little regard to the conversations floating around him.

Teo and Haru making plans to do a little more exploring, Katara was asking, no, telling Aang that she wanted the two of them to work on a little waterbending this morning, and Toph interrupting, demanding her share of Aang's time. Little everyday conversations that held no interest for him and none of them even noticed his silence.

It was the voice he didn't hear that suddenly caught his attention, his dad wasn't sitting with the rest of them, not even near Chit Sang who sat a little further away, shoveling his own breakfast into his mouth with little grunts of satisfaction. He looked up sharply, glanced around and...there. His dad and Zuko, both of them turning a corner as they walked briskly away.

As casually as he could, Sokka set his bowl aside, wiping his hands on his trousers before he walked after them. Couldn't run, no, didn't want to attract any attention even as he bitterly noticed the others paid him no mind, kept to their little bland conversations while he tried to tamp down the heat rising in his chest.

They hadn't gone far, ducked into one of the pagodas and the door was shut but he could hear their voices, hushed and deep, searched for desperately and found a spot where the wall was crumbling, vines pushing their way through stone, and he could see inside.

For a brief moment, he thought they were embracing and that sick, crimson rage hovered on the edge of his vision because they'd had a deal, he'd paid for it plenty, and here Zuko was--

But no, his father had both hands on Zuko's upper arms but they weren't kissing, only talking, Hakoda punctuating every few words with a hard shake. He couldn't get close enough to make out their words but he could see Zuko's expression shifting, from shocked into...for the briefest moment, his face crumpled into misery before it went carefully blank. He nodded once, brusquely, and then jerked away, taking three steps back until he was nearly against the wall and there was formalness in his stance that warned of firebending.

His father turned away from it, turned his back with carelessness that made Sokka wince, don't trust him, don't, don't, but Zuko's hands dropped as Hakoda strode away, leaving Sokka to scramble behind the meager concealment of a half-collapsed section of wall.

He heard the quiet click of his father shutting the door, his footsteps fading, and after long moments when Zuko didn't follow, Sokka crept forward again.

The crack in the wall was just barely wide enough for him to peer inside, but it was enough for him to see Zuko was sitting slumped in the corner, hunched over with his head in his hands and for a moment, Sokka thought he was crying.

Good, he thought fiercely, let the bastard suffer, his dad wasn't going back to him no matter what he did. Let him sit there alone and cry like a little lost child, let him hurt like he hadn't let Sokka.

But after a moment, he raised his head and his eyes were clear, his cheeks unblemished with wetness. Instead he just looked...tired. Bleak. And somehow it wasn't nearly as satisfying as Sokka might have hoped, an answering echo of that exhaustion deep inside him.

Sokka turned and crept away before someone came looking for him, stumbled across this scene that he had no way and no interest in explaining. He needn't have worried, everyone was where he'd left them, none of them noticing his absence and his faint resentment at that gnawed just a little as he considered what he'd seen.

He wondered what they'd argued about, and a half-formed idea terrified him, that somehow his dad knew, knew everything but neither Hakoda nor Zuko tried to talk to him alone that day, Sokka going through his motions of fruit gathering, trying to listen to Suki and avoiding her slight attempts to embrace him. Whatever she thought of that, she said nothing, only smiled her sweet smile when they all bedded down for the night.

Exhaustion was pulling at him, pleading for him to ignore their little deal and get some rest but Sokka ignored it. Lay there with his eyes open, watching the moonlight trace patterns over the smooth stone floor until the shadow across from him slipped from the blankets and away.

Zuko didn't wait for him to follow, only walked in the same direction as the night before and if Sokka had been sick with dread then, tonight was worse. The dread was still there, heavy as a stone in his gut but it was diluted, thinned with something all the more horrid. Inside him, threaded through with shame, was his own desire, anticipation of what was to come. He was barely able to admit it to himself but he couldn't ignore the way his cock hardened as he walked silently along, the way sweat was springing out over his body as he approached the door to their--

(their, he was thinking of it as their? They, them, their, no, please)

\--their pagoda, pushing it enough that the door swung open on silent hinges. He wet his lips and stepped inside, the door closing slowly behind him.

Zuko was already inside; of course he was, sitting on the window ledge, one leg drawn up and the other dangling outside. His hands were resting on his belly, loosely twined together as he looked out at the night sky.

"Come on, let's get this over with," Sokka said roughly, his hands already going to the ties of his belt. Better to do this, get it done and then he could sleep, let his dreams wash all of this away for just a little while. Until tomorrow night, but don't think of that yet, let that be.

"No," Zuko said softly, gazing out the window. "Just...no. It's okay, you can go."

Sokka went still, his heartbeat pounding like thunder in his ears. "What? No way, we had a deal, we--"

"I won't tell anyone. You have my word. Just go." Then, almost as an afterthought. "Please."

Sokka let his hands fall to his sides, unwilling to let it go at this. There was a trick or a trap, something he hadn't thought of, maybe Zuko hadn't given up on his dad so easily, maybe, maybe. "Why?" he asked finally, suspiciously.

Zuko took a slow, deep breath, let it out. "Your father asked me today to stay away from you. Actually, he told me to, so that's just what I'm going to do."

"What?" Sokka said, disbelief widening his eyes, raising his voice. "That's it? My dad tells you to do something and you just do it?"

"Your father's a good man," Softly. "And this...this isn't what I intended to become when I left home, I--" Zuko made a sound like laughter, soft and bitter. "The worst part is, I actually believed he liked me. It's stupid, really. I believed he wanted me, I thought--" he swallowed hard, ducked his head. "But you were right. He didn't really want me, he felt sorry for me, he pitied me and now he doesn't even want me near you. He's a good man and you are, and I'm...not." Zuko trailed away. "I shouldn't be saying any of this. Please, just go."

Sokka just stood there uncertainly, hating the way his anger was leaking away. It was easy to hate mocking, cruel Zuko, the shadow of ponytailed Zuko that he'd been seeing lately. Now, sitting there with his hands loose in his lap and his face turned towards the stars he just seemed...lost, and Sokka was with him in that, felt like he was stumbling blindly now that he was cut loose. He could go, Zuko had said he could, but somehow he found himself staying right here, watching Zuko watch the sky.

Zuko hadn't moved and suddenly Sokka didn't like the way he was leaning out the window, at all. The sills were crumbly, years of neglect wearing away at the stone and it was very possible that if Zuko shifted his weight wrong it would crumble away entirely. Or that Zuko could simply lean out and let himself fall.

He should hate him, he should after what he'd done but somehow all he felt now was a sort of raw sympathy, and pity, yes, he could admit that. He still didn't want Zuko near his dad but suddenly his vision on this was twisting, Zuko admitting that his dad hadn't really liked him at all had gotten to him somehow and maybe...maybe what his dad had done wasn't exactly the kindest thing to do to a guy who'd just left his entire life behind.

With sudden, wrenching clarity, a tunnel opened up in his mind and he could see the white light at the end, like he was only believing it for the first time. Zuko was only a year older than him and his dad had...his dad...

He covered his mouth with his hand, choking off the sound that tried to escape. Zuko startled, off balance as he turned back towards him. It made Sokka's stomach rise into his throat and he flinched when Sokka grabbed his arm, yanking him a little further inside.

"Don't touch me," Zuko said, his voice thin and he tried halfheartedly to pull away.

"I'll touch you if you look like you'll fall otherwise," Sokka scowled and didn't let go. If the fate of the world depended on Aang learning firebending, he wasn't about to let the only person who could teach him die in such a stupid fashion.

"Is that what you think?" Zuko tipped his head back a little and gave a hollow laugh. "Don't worry, I'm not going to throw myself to my death like a heartsick girl. I'm going to go to sleep and in the morning I'll get up and spend the day training Aang. That's all."

"Then climb down from there so I can go to bed. You're not the only one who's short on sleep."

"Fine." He moved slowly, like an old man and the second both his feet were on the ground Sokka let him go. His body was already pleading for sleep; the heady throb between his legs was more of an afterthought now, dimmed with shock and exhaustion.

But Zuko didn't move, only pushed his hand heavily through his hair as he sighed, "Look, this isn't going to help, but I'm sorry about all this, Sokka. You were trying to help your dad and I blamed all of this on you. I know I can't make it up to you and I don't expect you to forgive me but I just...I'm sorry."

Bowed to him, the same way he had to Toph when he'd burned her feet and the sight of it, Fire Nation apology for fucking with him, inflamed that slow burning anger behind his eyes. An apology, that's what he deserved, pathetic, meaningless words was what he was worth. No, no, that wasn't going to be it, Zuko wasn't going to balance the scales of his honor and call this one even.

"You want to make it up to me?" Slowly, barely aware of speaking, letting the words drop between them like shards of broken glass. "Let me fuck you."

Zuko blinked a little, his eyes uncomprehending and a little frown line appeared between his eyes. "What?"

"Honor is important to you, right? Make it even with me," Sokka repeated, stepping closer to knot his hands in Zuko's shirt before he could step away and it felt good to say it, let the heat throbbing between his legs warm his voice as he stepped in close enough to press his cheek against Zuko's unscarred one, whispered into that soft, delicate shell of skin.

"Let me fuck you."

* * *

tbc


	8. Careless

* * *

"Let me fuck you."

It was surprisingly easy to say, Sokka found. Words forming on his tongue and slipping out before he'd really considered what he was saying but when he did, he knew that it was what he wanted. He wanted to see Zuko on his knees again, he wanted to be the one touching him.

Zuko inhaled sharply, stepping back and away but the only thing behind him was the wall and the window, the blanket from the night before still spread clumsily beneath it. Sokka wondered distantly if he were to lay down on it, would it still smell of their sex, their sweat, all the things they'd done the night before netted into the woven fibers.

The room was still fairly lit with moonlight, the crescent edge of it widened a fraction more than the night before and Zuko's face was clearly illuminated, his too-large eyes. He looked so bewildered, even shocked, and it made sour amusement rise in Sokka's gut. "But--why? Sokka, you don't want this--"

"You know, I'm getting sick of you telling me what I want," Sokka whispered furiously, hands clenching into fists. "I know what I want."

Zuko was half shaking his head, before Sokka had even finished. "No, this is-- I told your father I'd leave you alone."

"I don't give a damn what you told my father," Savagely. He and his father were so, so good, Zuko had said but he didn't feel good, not now. Emotion was throbbing through him, laced with hot anger, a throbbing crimson rush through his veins, and he was hard, aching heat between his legs that he wanted to use, wanted to batter Zuko with. "Your deal was with me. You’re the one breaking your word now. So what, now you're a traitor, a liar, and a deal breaker?" Sokka lashed out in the only way he could against Zuko, let words be a weapon that he could use. "You'd let my dad fuck you for no reason but not for my honor?"

Zuko only stared at him with those lost eyes, until Sokka made an impatient noise, stepping in and yanking Zuko's loose tunic off his shoulders, the seams creaking in protest. He abandoned it halfway down Zuko's arms, wrestling instead with the sash around his waist until it came free and he could toss it aside. Sokka ignored Zuko's hands trying to catch his own, useless and slow against the power of his anger.

"You owe me this!" Sokka muttered furiously. He'd managed to get one of Zuko's arms free, skin paler in the moonlight, barer somehow for Zuko's lack of response. "You made me want it, you made me like it, you son of a bitch. You owe me."

Quicksilver motion, Zuko finally coming to life to grab his hands and shove them away, and before Sokka could protest he was moving to undo his clothes himself with brisk, quick movements.

"Fine," he said curtly, and yes, gods, yes, that was what Sokka wanted, not those wounded, bruised eyes that faded in with the dimness. He wanted Zuko like this, his eyes molten gold, hot with anger and something else. Passion, maybe, raw and fiery.

Firebender, Sokka thought, almost dazedly. He felt feverish, like having Zuko in him had infused him somehow with flame, and Zuko hadn't hurt him, hadn't left so much as a bruise. Not outwardly but inside he felt sprained, some invisible part of him was aching and wounded, and it wanted this.

No kisses, he didn't want that tenderness, couldn't allow that gentleness to invade him. Instead, he pushed Zuko down to his knees, let him press his forehead against his folded arms while Sokka knelt behind him, running a hand down the oh, so pale skin of his back and lower, cupping the rounded swell of his backside him both hands.

Zuko was shaking, just a little, the faintest tremor going through him but it was enough to punch through Sokka's anger, easing the glow of it behind his eyes. He wanted to fuck him, yes, use him, yes, but not hurt him. Not like this, not...not...

"Relax, remember?" Sokka murmured. Zuko nodded jerkily into his folded arms, took a deep breath, another as he tried to follow his own advice. Sokka fumbled his own pants down and off, his scrambling fingers finding the small jar he had tucked away in one pocket. It was only an ointment for bruises and cuts but it was wonderfully slippery on his fingers, the smell of it reminding him painfully of home. Pushing that memory aside, Sokka pressed his slick fingers against that tiny opening, his other hand gripping Zuko's hip to keep him still.

A sharp inhalation, a faint sound and he was inside, so hot inside, muscles clenched brutally around his single finger as he carefully nudged it deeper. Almost unconsciously, Sokka pressed kisses against the cool, damp skin of Zuko's hip, felt him tremble. Zuko was so tight around his finger, tense and unyielding as he tried to push in a little deeper. That raw anger in him was fading, helplessly, and Sokka tried to cling to it, twisted his finger a little and Zuko winced.

"Did it hurt when my dad did this?" Sokka asked softly, sure that he hadn't meant to ask such an awful question but he'd seen them, and this wasn't right, there was no relaxing through this, no pleasure in it, only...only....

"A little," Zuko choked. He was shaking, seriously shaking, his head buried into his arms. The sweat gleaming on his back was cold, his skin prickled with goose bumps, and Sokka withdrew his fingers slowly, staring at him. Watched him stiffen, obviously anticipating the next step and when it didn't come, he finally raised his head, confused, eyes wary and...there. So clear to Sokka's somber gaze.

Fear.

"What--"

"My dad was right, wasn't he," Sokka said, slowly. Realization was coming like moonlight between the parting clouds. It lodged painfully in Sokka's gut, drawing away the rest of his anger like it was a poison. "Someone did hurt you."

Zuko's face tightened in anger, eyes flashing. "My father never laid a hand on me!"

"I didn't say he did," Sokka said, almost kindly. "Why are you so angry?" His own anger was like ashes on the back of his tongue, bitter and dry, and gods, he'd really almost done it. Even now, just below his skin his blood was thrumming, some lustful thing inside him clamoring for him to finish what he'd started but it was getting fainter.

Zuko was still shaking, his hands clenched in bloodless fists. "You said you wanted to do this, so do it!"

"Who hurt you?" He kept the words gentle, almost coaxing. Guilt had almost gotten him what he'd wanted before but now all he wanted was answers and those had to come willingly.

"I don’t know what y-"

"Don't lie, I can tell. Who was it?"

"It doesn't matter, it was years ago!" A burst of raw, low words. "He can't hurt anyone now, anyway."

"That's a lie, too," Sokka said, softly, reeling a little from the admission. Spirits, someone had...if it was years ago then Zuko must've been Aang's age and someone had... "He's still hurting you."

"That's not true! I hardly even remember it," Zuko said his voice thick. "I was barely conscious."

"Your father never touched you," Sokka repeated, quietly. "So what did he do?"

Silence, Zuko struggling with words, legs drawn up tight to his chest. It made him look barer, more naked than he needed to be while confessing things that were almost unspeakable. "He watched," Zuko choked out, finally, his face turned away into the dark, "My father thought respect had to be taught by any means necessary so he...he watched."

"Oh, gods..." Sokka whispered, stunned.

"I only remember a little...I remember him watching. There was...someone was laughing but he didn't. He just...he watched. Because I needed to learn respect." Words pouring out of him in short, sharp bursts. "It didn't hurt nearly as bad as this," Zuko gestured limply at his face. "That hurt and he kept moving me and every time I moved, this hurt worse. I remember that, I remember thinking that I wished he'd leave me alone so I could be still."

"Who?"

"It really doesn't matter."

"It matters to me."

Zuko snorted. "Worried about having a stranger's leftovers?"

"Is that worse than having my dad's?" Sokka asked with so much honest curiosity that Zuko actually laughed. It was faint and cracking but it was a laugh.

"I'm not sure. I guess it is kind of weird."

"Yeah, I seem to attract weird." Silence, and then, because he had to ask, some childlike denial still pleading that it couldn't be true, and yet... "You really didn't do anything to my dad, did you."

Zuko laughed again but this time it was edged with bitterness. "No. What could I have done?" He shrugged a little, helplessly. "It just sort of happened. I thought..." his eyes slid away. "It doesn't matter."

"You keep saying that, but it's not true. It does matter. It matters a lot."

"What matters is getting Aang trained," Zuko said harshly. "What matters is stopping my father. There are lots of things that matter and this is not one of them. None of this matters at all."

There didn't seem to be much point in arguing with that, not with the hot shine of certainty in Zuko's eyes, the hard set of his mouth. Okay, fine, he could believe what he wanted to believe. And so could Sokka.

"So it doesn't matter what you thought. You just wanted to be with someone," Sokka said, a little flatly.

Zuko didn't look at him, exhaling a long breath before he said, softly, "You and your dad are both so good. Who wouldn't want that?"

It jolted Sokka, rocked his foundations and you'd think he'd be used to it by now. The ground hadn't been firm beneath his feet since a boy had fallen out of an iceberg in front of him, and Sokka had been frantically trying to shift with it since, riding the rise and fall of the metaphorical earthquake shaking up his life. This was just another wave in a series but it still shook him to the core, Zuko admitting that he'd wanted him not as a punishment, not as revenge, just him. Him.

He didn't think he meant to lean forward but Zuko's mouth was beneath his own anyway, soft and wet and startled. His lower lip was tender between Sokka's teeth as he bit it lightly, felt Zuko inhale, felt the moment he started to respond. "I'm not as good as you think I am," Sokka pulled away to whisper, harshly, "And you aren't as bad."

If before had been wrong then Sokka was sure this wasn't right, but he couldn't stop again, the heat in his belly kindling, flaring into an inferno and Zuko was so utterly bare beneath him and clutching his arms, pulling him in. The hot length of Zuko's cock against his belly made him want to rub against him, limbs twined together as they rocked. Wet heat bloomed between them, Zuko burying his face into Sokka's neck as he cried out and if there was wetness there as well, Sokka didn't say anything. He only threaded his fingers into the sweaty hair at the base of Zuko's neck and held him there, their hot bodies cooling slowly in the dark night air.

finis


End file.
